Lost
by SnitchSnatcher
Summary: I used to think that I was strong. But things change - people change. I changed. It was because of love. Cruel, evil, marred love.


**Lost**

Unimaginable pain cursed through my veins as I looked into the eyes of the one I loved, yet the one I hated, despised. I couldn't see a way out now. I'd come too far, gone too deep, and I was lost. I knew that I couldn't help myself. In another time I would have looked down upon myself, probably scorned myself, but I was here, in the moment, and there was nothing that I could do. I could try to break free, or to leave, but my efforts would be fruitless. It would only be myself who was holding me back.

I couldn't die though. No, because that would be selfish; cruel. It wasn't just me anymore. I couldn't simply make a decision without wondering who it would hurt. So much had changed. I just wish I'd been able to see that.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long, not really, for us to get together. Once I knew who he was, I automatically hated him, feared him. I avoided him and refused to be anywhere near him. I wanted revenge, and justice; of course I did. It wasn't as simple as that though. I <em>feared<em> him. I knew what he had done, and I knew what he would become. But even through my fear, and hatred, I was intrigued. His intelligence and wit rendered my own obsolete, and I found myself wondering just how he did it.

It was irrational to be curious. He was Lord Voldemort, for Godric's sake! He had changed my life, hurt people that I loved, and yet I still wanted to delve deeper, to be consumed by his inferior knowledge and talent. I constantly battled with myself, dying with curiosity all the while, and eventually, I gave in. I promised myself that what I was doing was acceptable; I told myself that they'd want me to spy on him, to find out more. But they weren't here, and so what they would've really thought wouldn't of mattered anyway.

When I spoke to him for the first time, it was exactly how I'd expected. He spoke richly, sarcasm dripping from his words as they fell from his smirking mouth. I thought that I had bored him, but he sought me out, time after time. We would talk about school, spells, and in particular, the future. After a while I would notice the way that his dark eyes would shine with excitement when he described his plans, and then glaze over once more. He never gave any indication that he was to become Lord Voldemort, but he was vague, only saying that he wished to inspire change.

We argued almost every other sentence. I had so much to say, and he could never go on without proving his own, inferior point, when he thought me to be wrong. I found it energizing. Every morning, I would wake up wondering what we would discuss the coming day, and what he would have to say about it. I longed to hear his silky voice whenever I was away from him. "_Hermione,_" he would say smoothly, "_I think that you are __**quite**__ wrong. The incantation should…" _He would go on to correct me, and I would stare at him, entranced.

It was during one of our arguments that he first kissed him. It was a rather heated debate, and I _sure _that I was right, but he was trying to prove me wrong, and I wasn't going to stand for that. So, lost in the moment, I went into my own little world, intent on being correct. It was a few minutes later that I realised that he was kissing me, and a few more minutes after that when I responded. He was persistent, I'll give him that.

Even though he was Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord, I couldn't seem to stop myself from falling into his arms. For months, we were in some sort of relationship, where we would still debate and argue, yet it would be different. The main difference being that we never used to end up in bed after particularly heated debates.

The first time we had sex was a day that I remember well. I wanted to give myself to him, but I wasn't really ready. I was only just adjusting to whole relationship-with-the-dark-lord-thing and I needed more time to get my head in the right place. He got his own way though, of course. It was uncomfortable and painful but I remember enjoying it, if only slightly. It got better after the first time, and it became part of my routine. Now I feel ashamed that I was so willing, but back then nothing of conscience seemed to filter into my mind.

After Hogwarts, we moved in together. We had very little money, but we managed to afford a modest flat in Diagon Alley. Tom immediately found work at Borgin and Burkes, and I too acquired a job, but at the Ministry. Working in an office suited me; I liked routine and order. I tried to ignore the fact that Tom was following his foreseen path, but I couldn't overlook the similarities. Once thing that I did manage to ignore was his Horcruxes. I didn't want anything to do with them, or even to know about them, and so I kept myself in the dark. I didn't know if he was making them or not.

Tom never wanted to talk about marriage, or especially; love. I told him that I loved him in a moment of passion, and he was strange for days afterwards. That was back at Hogwarts. Even then, I knew that he didn't love me. He cared about me, certainly, but he could never love me. He just didn't understand why he should need to. To him, I was a possession to be protected at all costs, more important than the brightest jewel, yet not an equal, or another half.

I still told him that I loved him, regardless. He was everything to me, and he needed to know that, even if he wouldn't reciprocate my feelings. Then, he snapped. I knew it would happen, eventually, but I didn't think that it would be so soon.

We were lying together, and I told him that I loved him more than anything, and that I couldn't live without him. I wish I hadn't. It was then that he got up, and started yelling. I told him that he was selfish, and that the only thing he needed to understand, he could never understand. He lost it. He fired spells, all sorts, at me. I ended up bruised and broken, with not even my dignity remaining.

I should have left, the first time, but I couldn't. I never could.

Tom liked to have power over me, and after his first attack he seemed to realise that abusing me was a good way to keep his power. Whenever he was angry, or whenever something didn't go just quite how he wanted it to, he took it out on my body. I was a fragile doll, and I was treated like a pincushion. I started to forget who I was.

Time went by, and the abuse continued. I accepted it. My love for Tom overpowered any disgust that I should have been feeling. I knew that I still loved him, and that I always would. When I thought about it, it seemed simple, but it was far from it.

Then it happened. It started like any other Sunday; having a lie-in on my day off, reading to my heart's content. But then I realised that something wasn't right. I was clever, and I didn't miss anything. I checked my diary, and it agreed with my thoughts. I picked up my wand, and uttered the spell that I had learnt long ago. Blue. I knew what that meant. It confirmed my suspicions, and made me sick to the stomach.

I made it to our bathroom, and was violently sick. It was wrong, so, so wrong. It wasn't fair. I cried until my eyes were dry and my throat ached. But I knew I had to continue. I had to get on with it. Hermione Granger didn't sit around feeling sorry for herself. I cleaned myself up, and left the bathroom.

When I got downstairs, he was there, waiting. I should've known. He told me that he'd heard me, and he demanded to know what was wrong. I didn't want to tell him. He forced me.

"Tom, please, no…let go!" I cried.

"If you really want to know, then fine, I'll tell you. I'm- I'm pregnant." I sobbed.

He didn't want to believe me, but he knew I wasn't lying. Then the shouting started. The yelling. The accusing.

He told me that he didn't want a child, didn't need one. He ranted while I sat on the floor; sobbing, helpless.

Tom had always hated crying. He pulled me up, by the hair, and slammed me into the wall. This was different. He usually used magic, and the physical violence made it all the more real. I protected my stomach fiercely. He proceeded to slap me across the face, and he told me that I was worthless. I did the worst thing I could possibly do; I looked away from him. I ignored him.

"_Crucio"_ he spoke calmly, as if it was nothing. Tom hated ignorance. I was the only one who'd never ignored him.

_Things change._

Unimaginable pain cursed through my veins as I looked into the eyes of the one I loved, yet the one I hated, despised. I couldn't see a way out now. I'd come too far, gone too deep, and I was lost. I knew that I couldn't help myself. In another time I would have looked down upon myself, probably scorned myself, but I was here, in the moment, and there was nothing that I could do. I could try to break free, or to leave, but my efforts would be fruitless. It would only be myself who was holding me back.

I couldn't die though. No, because that would be selfish; cruel. It wasn't just me anymore. I couldn't simply make a decision without wondering who it would hurt. So much had changed. I just wish I'd been able to see that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. This was my first go at anything Tomione related, and so I would appreciate it if you left me some feedback.  
>If anyone would be interested, I am not ruling out a sequel. I quite like the foundations that I have built, and could probably write more.<p>

I wrote this to try to understand how Hermione would be feeling if she was in such a situation, and I imagined that although she would still be strong, and would carry on, she would be weakened by loving and yet hating someone so greatly. I hope you could see how much she changed and how messed up she became.

Please review :)


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